Shame
by xSonnis
Summary: For days he could feel nothing but shame. It numbed him. It drove him to drink. It ravaged his pride. It made him crave revenge...and the return of his heart...
1. Chapter 1

**Shame**

He could feel nothing but shame for days.

It numbed him.

The coarse whispers of his goblins haunted him for at least a week, and no mater how many times he flogged them and threatened to kill, it never seemed to seize. Their grins and glares made the throne room uninhabitable, leaving his chambers as his only escape. Even then, when their squat and warty little bodies ventured down the hall, snide remarks permeated the stone walls. The very air in his lungs, the wine he drank by the pitcher, poisoned him with memories. The wine, however, was what did the numbing. Quite well, in fact. The shame was subdued enough so that he did not stop taking air. The Goblin King may run from his defeat, but was too proud to run the long stretch into death. That was cowardice, but this - drunkenly seething on his private balcony - was only an evidence of healing.

That's what he wanted the goblins to think, anyway.

Jareth scanned his labyrinth for the thousandth time that night. No matter how fierce his cruel eyes became, how hard he squinted at the tangled mess of walls and traps, he could find no flaw in it. But there _must _be a flaw somewhere, a glitch in his perfect spider web. The flies weren't catching on it anymore, and what was a spider to do without any flies? Eat it's own legs off? Drink more wine? Yes, more wine…wine made him numb…

Another gulp sloshed into his full gullet. Jareth had never been drunk before due to the negative effects too much drink had on one's wits, but he rather liked the way his world was spinning. The hum in the chambers of his brain sparked and sizzled as he slammed down his goblet. Messy fingers ended up grazing it, causing the goblet and the remaining wine within to fall off the edge of the balcony and into the grass below. Jareth watched the earth drink up his savory beverage blankly before it registered that he'd just lost it. Upon realizing the turn of events, he scowled in such a way that the grass curled up and died.

"Ungrateful…how long have I protected you, you nasty thing? How long have I kept you _alive_?"

The Goblin King's voice was like a stone cutting cold air. Strong, irrevocable, and somehow very broken. The labyrinth did not respond to him, of course. The wind blew and played with his unkempt hair, but that was just the wind taking its natural course across the land. Nocturnal insects chirped excitedly as they did each night. The moon was bright and no more lively than it ever was. The labyrinth, though it fancied itself to be, was not alive. It could not speak, see, feel, or even mock Jareth as he screamed in rage. Those within it made it magical, and Jareth's attention greased its gears and tuned it up for service. Without that, it was just a maze.

A defeated maze. A puzzle solved too soon.

Panting from the exertion of his screams, Jareth clasped his bare hands on the rail and bowed his head. Shards of his own voice surrounded him, encasing him in this evergreen shame that would not die. Look what that girl had resorted him to. He was a drunk without respect and honor. And yet, he was The Goblin King! Feared by all, loved by many…except one…

Jareth wiped the knuckle of his wrist over his mouth to wipe away the sweat collected below his nose before collapsing onto his knees. The marble balcony was cool on his heated brow, chilling his anger as it made way for pain. The thought of that girl, her damnably bright eyes and glossy hair, her friendly demeanor and fiery passion, made him crumble. The visage of her determination constantly clouded his mind. She had solved his labyrinth with seconds to spare, and was offered a plate of dreams in exchange for o_ne. Screaming. Baby._ Was it really so much to ask? When this all began, he wanted the pretty little thing to accept what she'd done and leave him to the child, but when she refused, she became more than some pretty little thing. She became an interesting creature. Before long, she was admirable, onto enviable, onto being capable of his hatred. By the time they stood before one another, both emotionally raw and weak from their battle, she was invaluable. A better prize than his lazy labyrinth. Jareth wanted to have her, protect her, love her if she would have given in…he was sure he would have done anything for that little minx.

"That little _minx,_" Jareth cursed the girl's image and tried to shake it away, but it consumed him. His heart tried to run to her, but was incarcerated in his chest. What could he do if she did not want him? He had no power over her, but it wasn't fair. She was doing so much to him. Did she even know what she had done to the famed Goblin King, powerful ruler and conqueror of the fay? Tyrant of all that is magical and deceiver of innocence? He did not know anyone could be as cruel as he, or that a beautiful girl could be even crueler. Sarah had his heart in one fist and dignity in the other. In this confused, intoxicated state, he'd be damned if he didn't feel her nimble fingers crush them slowly. Amusedly. She needed to be shown her place. Everyone adored her; he would smother them and show her pain. The girl didn't know sorrow yet, for the young know so little. He would let her taste it and _then _see if she denied him as he let her drink from his cup of despair. Even as he hatched his schemes, Jareth knew he would never go through with it.

The shame made him far too numb.

**A/N: Possible continuation?**

**Please review with your suggestions. I'll be waiting with a grand smile and a cookie. : )**


	2. Chapter 2

**Shame**

**Chapter Two**

The sun was far more irritating than the goblins. Loud as they were, the sun's light was even more obnoxious. It hurt Jareth's eyes and ignited a great pyre of pain inside his head. Little grotesque bodies spun in a queer waltz around his throne room, and watching made Jareth's stomach a little more queasy than it had been before. Leaning forward in his throne so his elbows could rest on his knees, Jareth scowled at his boots and tried to hide his greening complexion from the court.

He would never drink again.

Jareth pursed his lips so not to release a warning belch to those around him and reached into his shirt for his crystals. Today's dress was notably informal when considering the expensive attire the Goblin King normally donned; a loose dove-gray shirt with a split in the middle to help fresh air circulate around his torso, form-fitting cotton breeches to allow easy movement, and his favorite worn hunting boots. They did not shine and were never polished, but they did not give him any dreadful blisters. Any comfort was greedily sought by Jareth today, and even in his humble clothing, he still felt like he was rocking back and forth on a storming sea. The goblins would never let him live it down if he vomited. Gritting his teeth and clenching three crystals in a fist, Jareth willed images to appear on the surface.

He checked on the girl often since his defeat, or "The King's Blunder", as the goblins were beginning to refer to it as. Everyone knew, but Jareth couldn't find the will to care anymore. He was partial to thumping someone's squat head if they dared mention his failure mockingly in his presence, but no more than thump. Especially in his state of-…oh, Jareth didn't even know what to call this sickness the wine had poisoned him with.

The girl appeared on the top of the crystal. Her features glimmered in the sunlight pouring onto the crystals from the open windows, but no amount of glitter could make her drawn, sad expression look happy. Jareth didn't fight the tiny grin and let it curl his face into a devious mask he was well known for. Due to many visits to the human's world, he recognized her surroundings as a school. They learned in hoards so ignorance might be relieved, but the humans continued a life of insolence and greed. Jareth has never understood humans, and never would. He didn't want to, really; he didn't care about any others but the girl…

No. Stop right there.

Jareth smoothed his gloved hand (black leather; the better for strangling small, thick necks with) over the images of Sarah Williams, and they evaporated like fog in the harsh sunlight. He watched Sarah's eyes vanish into smoke and felt his heart throb and bleed and sing all at once. But these things were something he was beginning to learn to ignore. Jareth closed his eyes and took a long breath as he replaced his crystals back into the folds of his shirt. When he opened his eyes to the busy throne room again, a disgusting looking goblin with especially wrinkled skin and a large abscess on his chest was staring into Jareth's pale face. When the goblin didn't speak, Jareth quirked an eyebrow and kicked it with moderate force. The scared goblin shrieked and seemed to gather his wits, gripping the end of the long tunic he wore and twisting it in his pudgy hands.

"Well?" Jareth asked sharply, rubbing his temples with two fingers. "What is it, then? Don't just stand there like a buffon, Grendyall."

"Uhhh…ummmm-…Your Masjesty?

Jareth closed his eyes, cinching them hard. Didn't the dreadful thing see that his attention had already been acquired? Goblins were stupid, but they had their uses. Jareth tried to have patience with them…when he could manage it. Like a father who wasn't suited to parenting, Jareth was stuck nurturing his people. That's what a king does, in any case.

"I'm _listening_, Grendyall."

Grendyall the Goblin gulped hard, a nervous sweat accumulating on his thick skin. "We have a little problem."

* * *

><p>Nurturing his people is in his job description. To keep his subjects calm, it is usually required of him to fake ease in dire situations. This, however, wasn't a situation Jareth had ever been faced with before. It was worse than the rebellion many moons back, when he was still a young king without advisors or experience. Far more jaw-dropping than the war between the goblins and the mermaids that his kingdom was still recovering from. This was unfathomable.<p>

The Goblin King's expression told that to the world.

"It wasn't by the fault of _anyone_, Your Majesty, not no one. Hoggle, that be the gate-keeper, he is, he was just spraying off the pixies as usual…and then he felt it. Then he saw it, and I-…I didn't believe him at first, Majesty, but here it be. Here it be."

There it was.

Unfathomable.

Jareth couldn't bring himself to respond to Grendyall. What was there to say about this? If he were to open his mouth now, all Jareth would be able to express was despair. That's unseemly in a king of his great reputation. To say nothing is better than tarnishing what dignity he had left after "His Great Blunder". His beautiful labyrinth, his perfect plaything; it was dead. Broken, rather. It was the Goblin King who felt dead from the labyrinth's obvious brokenness.

If one were to glance at the labyrinth for just a fleeting moment, it would appear as if nothing were wrong. The walls were not shattered, and the vines which decorated them trimmed handsomely. It was a lovely looking maze, for that one fleeting glance. But if you had the trained eye of a goblin or their king, you would be distraught to see the lack of life in their trump card. Only they could tell that the vines were just that: _only vines._ And the walls? They did not spark with danger or with mystery. The walls were only walls that stood as barriers. The maze hasn't changed in days, now that Jareth thought about it. It constantly moved when healthy, as if it got bored of its formation too quickly. But it was the same as it's been since its last competitor.

Jareth tapped a cracked stone wall with a single gloved finger. No magic thrummed underneath it. Just stone. Nothing. Jareth shut his eyes against Grendyall's curious - albeit fearful - prying. No one must see his distress.

"Sire? What-…what could be hurting her?"

The Goblin King took a slow breath in response, all the muscles in his body curling up like a jungle cat ready to pounce. His mind churned and ached while it did so…ached from the stress of all that the human girl was causing him. She challenged him, turned loyal subjects against him, destroyed his pride and made him _love her for it_, and now-!

_Unfathomable!_

Instead of gingerly tracing his finger along the labyrinth, Jareth slammed an enclosed fist against the stone. He grimaced at the spark of pain that ignited in his hand bones before storming away from this physical manifestation of his broken life. He walked away, yes, only so he might get to how to solve the problem. There was no more running away, for this was more than personal now. This thing, "The King's Blunder", was meddling with his realm now. He wouldn't let it get far enough so another rebellion or war could start up. No man, king or not, could handle disaster in this state of mind.

"Your Majesty…? _Your Majesty!_" Grendyall called, waddling hurriedly after his liege, "Where are you going? What are we to do about the labyrinth? Without it, we-"

"I'm going to fix it, Grendyall," Jareth growled, fiddling within his shirt and jerking his crystals from within the folds. They shone in the sun, and he fought back the memory of the girl's hair, that could glitter just as beautifully if one watched it on a bright day.

Oh, how he wished to rip it out of that scheming, devious, evil, problematic, fantastical, perfectly symmetrical skull.

"The one who last uses the toy is the only one to blame, and it's only fair for that child to fix what is broken."

Jareth could hear Grendyall's heavy footsteps stutter to a stop and dwindle into silence behind him. He didn't care, but kept trekking on. He had to keep his nerve up while he had it, and it was setting his body on fire with the need to act.

"That's fair, is it not?" Jareth mumbled, wasn't sure if he was speaking to Grendyall, or himself.

He didn't particularly care.

**A/N: Scheming was requested, and here it is! Our dear Goblin King has hatched a scheme.**

**Thank you to those who have reviewed my story thus far! I really appreciate your compliments and feedback. : )**


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